


Nebraska

by HawthorneWhisperer



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Prairie AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 12:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4101100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawthorneWhisperer/pseuds/HawthorneWhisperer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gale is a farmer on the Nebraskan prairie and Madge is a school teacher he’s sure won’t last the winter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spring/Summer

Gale paused while hitching up the wagon, briefly enjoying the soft spring breeze blowing across the Nebraska plains.  It was days like this that he found it easy to understand why his father moved them all the way out here, far from the coal mines of Pennsylvania, far from the people who called them mongrels for the crime of having an Indian grandmother, far from anything resembling civilization, really.  The tiny town with a railway station and handful of stores hardly counted, in Gale’s opinion.  Which was fine with him, since he preferred solitude anyway. 

            But it was that town that was his destination today, so he shook himself from his reverie and climbed into the wagon.  He had wild turkeys to drop at the butcher’s, and he’d promised his mother he would pick up some fancy bread from Mellark’s, which meant dealing with that insufferably cheerful man, although it also meant a chance to ask Katniss why she’d missed hunting today.  (He had a hunch, not that he particularly wanted it confirmed).  He needed to stop by Thom’s blacksmith shop as well, and then on his way home he would stop by the schoolhouse and give Posy a ride home.

            Mellark smiled when Gale walked in, his grin only getting bigger when Gale scowled in response.  Katniss came downstairs, announcing that she’d seen Gale from the window upstairs but when Gale asked where she’d been this morning, her glare was as dark as a summer storm and Mellark’s ears turned bright pink as he suddenly got very interested in something behind the case.  Leaving the bakery feeling considerably better—it’s not that he  _hated_  Mellark, it’s that Gale just didn’t think one person should be so damn  _happy_  all the time—Gale stopped to see Thom and his ever growing brood of children (three so far, and Delly looked suspiciously tired) before loading up the wagon and heading out to the little schoolhouse.

            The schoolhouse wasn’t too far from the Hawthorne homestead, almost halfway between them and town.  But on Wednesdays, Gale went to town to pick up necessities and then would stop to pick Posy up.  He loved those drives home; he would sit quietly and Posy would chatter about whatever she learned in school that day.  Ever since that first terrible winter after Papa died, when Posy and Hazelle had both been so sick and he had spent weeks terrified that he was going to lose them both, Gale had had a special fondness for Posy.  Rory was so close in age to Gale that he couldn’t remember Rory being a baby and Vick came only three years after Rory when Gale was only five.  But Gale was fourteen when she was born.  He was there for Posy’s first steps, her first words—Ma, then kitty, then Gale—and it had been Posy who toddled over to him with a handful of  white and pink wild garlic flowers clutched in her fist and said “pretty.”  That was the moment, six years ago and two years after Papa died, when Gale finally started to forgive his father for moving them away from everything they knew and then dying.  The dying bit, Gale knew, wasn’t really Papa’s fault.  But he’d been only fourteen.  Fourteen, and suddenly the man of the house, fighting to keep his brothers in line and his sister alive.  Ma had helped, but that weight of responsibility had come crashing down on Gale’s shoulders the moment Papa had gotten sick.  It was lighter now, since Gale and Hazelle had scrimped and saved and managed to not only pay off their mortgage early, but buy some more land when neighbors gave up and headed back east.  Three years ago they’d even built a real house with wooden floors, leaving the old sod house behind forever.  But he knew that weight would always be there.

            Gale slowed the wagon down in front of the little one-room school house, but Posy was nowhere in sight.  Gale sighed to himself, realizing she was probably inside, talking nonstop to her beloved Miss Undersee.  Gale had yet to meet this Miss Undersee, who had only taken over the school the week before when the previous teacher left to get married, but Posy adored her and had already started pestering their mother about having her over for dinner. 

            Ducking his head and taking his hat off, Gale stepped inside the school.  He needed a moment for his eyes to adjust from the brightness outside, but there, up near the chalkboard, Posy sat reading beside a woman with wavy blonde hair in a smart navy dress.  Posy bounced out of her seat when she saw Gale, running down the aisle to wrap her arms around his waist.  Miss Undersee stood up with slightly more dignity than Posy, a soft smile on her distractingly pretty face.  She’d moved to town from Chicago with her father, Gale knew, and secretly he suspected they would only last one winter before hightailing it back to the city.  Mr. Undersee was a banker (Gale despised bankers on principle, although Undersee was new to his position and as yet untested) and a widower, and Madge kept his house.  She was older than he’d thought, probably close to his age, and all softness and curves and gentleness.  No, Gale thought, she was not cut out for the prairies.

            “…Gale?  I said, this is Miss Undersee.” 

With a start, Gale realized he’d been staring in silence like a fool.  Normally he was a little better with women, having courted a few girls half-heartedly after that morning when Katniss had abruptly announced she was going to marry the baker’s son.  He felt the heat rise to his cheeks as he nodded in Miss Undersee’s direction.  “Gale Hawthorne, miss.  It’s nice to finally meet Posy’s new favorite person.”  Miss Undersee chuckled.  “Oh, I don’t know about that.  I haven’t had Posy two weeks yet and I already feel like I know everything about you.”

            At that, Gale looked down and rumpled Posy’s hair, laughing as she attempted to bat his hand away.  She hated it when he did that, he knew, but if he was going to put her hair in braids every morning, he could certainly mess them up if he felt like it.  And right now, it was suddenly a little difficult to look Miss Undersee in the eye.  “Well, Pose, Ma’s going to be waiting on us, and I suspect you’ve already talked Miss Undersee’s ear off.  Miss Undersee, it was nice to meet you.”  Posy hugged her goodbye and tore out of the schoolhouse to vault into the wagon at an alarming speed.  She never did anything slow, his Posy.  Gale awkwardly nodded to Miss Undersee, shifting from foot to foot before muttering that it was nice to meet her again and then hustling out of the school before he did something stupid, like ask her how on earth a girl from Chicago managed to have eyes as blue as the prairie sky in June.

****

After that awkward meeting, Gale steadfastly refused to go back into the schoolhouse on his Wednesday drive.  Posy could watch for him, he decided, and come out herself.  She was old enough to learn a little responsibility, he told himself.  It had nothing at all to do with avoiding an unnervingly pretty daughter of a banker.  (Although, after Mr. Undersee had helped Thom get a loan for his shop at a good rate, Gale hated this banker a little less than most.)

 This worked well, until one afternoon in late June when the prairie sun was blazing down on him like the devil himself was in the sky.  Gale was down to his shirtsleeves and suspenders, but he was rapidly sweating through his shirt anyway.  He was in a bad mood already, partially due to the infernal heat and partially because he’d cut his palm hitching up the wagon and it was bleeding through the old handkerchief he’d wrapped around it.

He reined up in front of the schoolhouse, but Posy was no where in sight.  Grumbling to himself, he swung down from the wagon, took the porch steps two at a time and shoved the door open roughly.  “Pose, c’mon.  Let’s go.  I can’t wait around for you all day.”  Posy and Miss Undersee started at the sound of his voice, and a little stab of guilt went through him when he remembered that he was probably a little bit early.  Posy scrambled for her things while Miss Undersee looked at him curiously.  “What?” he barked.  “What’s wrong?”

Miss Undersee blushed a bit, and Gale realized she’d been staring at him.  But before he could ponder why she would do  _that_ , she asked, “Did you cut your hand, Mr. Hawthorne?”

Gale shrugged.  “It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t  _look_  like nothing.  That’s a bit more blood than  _nothing_.  And that handkerchief is positively filthy, so it’s probably doing more harm than good.  Come here, Mr. Hawthorne, and let me patch you up before you go home.  Trust me, your mother will thank me.”

Momentarily stunned by how stern the usually soft-spoken Miss Undersee just sounded, Gale silently walked over and sat down in a nearby desk.  She rummaged through a drawer in her desk for a moment and then returned to sit next to him.  “Posy, go fetch the bucket of water.  Now, Mr. Hawthorne, I’m surprised that a man as smart as you would risk infection like this,” she scolded.  Gale felt a little chagrined (he  _did_  know better, he was just in a rush), but mostly he was surprised that she thought he was smart.  But before he could pursue  _that_  little detail, she was unwrapping the handkerchief and grimacing as it stuck to the dried blood.  She held his hand gently, rinsing it with water from the bucket Posy had brought over, asking Posy questions about skin and muscle and smiling when Posy got the answers right.  

This was the closest Gale had ever been to Miss Undersee, and he found himself fixated on the light dusting of freckles over her nose.  Were those there before she moved to Nebraska, he wondered, or were they something new?  She opened a clean white handkerchief with a small M embroidered in purple on the corner, wrapping it over the wound and tying a knot across the back of his hand.  Her hands, he noticed, were tiny and soft, so different from his scarred hands, or his mother’s calluses.  He tore his eyes away from their hands, only to find her bright blue eyes looking directly back at him.  For one heart-stopping second, he forgot where he was, or what he was doing.  But then Posy asked if he was in such a hurry why was he just sitting there, and the moment was over.  He stopped at the doorway to the schoolhouse and called his thanks, but she was busy with something in her desk, determinedly not looking in his direction.  Gale spent the drive home absent-mindedly fiddling with the embroidered corner of the handkerchief, wondering how he was supposed to return it to her  _now._


	2. Fall, Part I

For the next two months, Gale managed to see very little of Miss Undersee. It wasn’t that he was avoiding her, exactly—although he had sent the handkerchief back with Posy, washed expertly by Hazelle—it was that when he did see her his heart gave this painful little lurch and he just couldn’t afford to become infatuated with someone who would probably be heading back east after her first taste of winter, and who would never want to be a farmer’s wife, anyway.

So he limited their interactions to a polite nod if he saw her in town or a friendly wave from the wagon when he picked Posy up. He certainly didn’t allow himself to get drawn into anything resembling a conversation with her, and he definitely didn’t let himself get close enough to touch her. That would only lead to disaster; he was sure of it.

But then Rory had to go and marry Prim at the end of August, and practically the whole town was invited. Gale could have killed Rory for insisting on a wedding just as the harvest season was getting started, but Rory didn’t want to wait until November, so here they were. It had been an absolute scorcher of a day, but the evenings were finally cooling off enough to be almost pleasant as everyone in a five mile radius trooped into the Hawthorne barn. Hazelle pulled out her fiddle and Rory and Prim started the dancing while Gale sat in a quiet corner, content to watch everyone else swirl around him. Mellark was, of course, an atrocious dancer, and Katniss was vainly trying to keep him on beat while laughing and smiling more than Gale thought possible. Thom and Delly were out there too, with her telltale belly alerting everyone that there was yet another baby on the way. Their three other boys were running around like demons, joyfully shouting their own nonsense words to the songs.

After only a few dances, Rory and Prim set off to walk to their new home with the catcalls of the wedding-goers following them across the fields. Gale had given Rory a decently sized plot of land between their home and town, and as he watched Rory throw his arm around Prim, their figures nearly swallowed by the long grass, he felt an odd sense of loss. Rory might have been close in age to Gale, but he was still Gale’s younger brother and now he was married. Gale was happy for him, he really was, but at the same time it was another person growing up and moving on while things stayed the same for him.

Gale ducked back inside the barn and caught Miss Undersee’s eye, but he was saved by Mellark asking her to dance. Katniss flung herself down on a hay bale next to Gale, rolling her eyes as Mellark pulled Miss Undersee along with nothing even resembling rhythm. She sighed, “He’s awful at it, but he loves it so much I don’t have the heart to tell him so. But I needed a break.” Katniss playfully bumped her shoulder into Gale’s, “Why aren’t you out there? I know your mom taught you how.” Gale shrugged, not wanting to explain that if he started dancing, he would end up dancing with someone he shouldn’t. Katniss seemed to understand his silence, and let it drop.

Eventually, the song ended and Mellark deposited Miss Undersee next to them, dragging Katniss back out. “You’d better dance with her, Hawthorne, before someone else does!” Mellark called, and for a split second Gale wondered just how angry his mother and Katniss would be if he punched the smile off Mellark’s face. Fortunately, he was saved by the lady in question, who shook her head at Mellark and murmured, “I really need a break after that dance, if that’s all right with you.” Suddenly feeling much better, Gale smiled and nodded, desperately trying to think of something to say. “Thank you for coming, Miss Undersee,” he managed, mentally cursing himself for being so stiff and boring. What was wrong with him? 

But she just laughed. “Please, call me Madge. I get called Miss Undersee so much I’m forgetting I even have a first name.”

Gale smiled again. “All right then, Madge. Are you having fun at your first Nebraskan wedding?” She nodded, and started explaining how different this was from a Chicago wedding, which were apparently “stuffy” and “boring” but before he could say anything in return, one of Thom’s boys tripped and fell face first in front of them, immediately beginning to wail. Madge made a move toward him, but Gale had already scooped him up and was patting him on the back, “It’s okay, buddy,” Gale soothed, pulling back just a touch to check behind the boy’s ear. (The two younger boys looked so alike the only way to tell them apart was a freckle one had behind his ear.) “It’ll be all right, Frankie, I promise.” Madge was looking at him strangely. “Oh, he isn’t hurt. These are just tears of surprise, trust me,” Gale assured her, but she just shook her head slightly. 

“No, that’s not it…never mind. Should we find his parents?”

Gale craned his neck; Thom was playing the fiddle now and Delly was no where in sight. She was probably up at the house putting the other boys to bed, so Gale sat back down and rearranged Frankie on his lap. The tears were already stopping, but he’d started rubbing his eyes, clearly overly tired. “I’m sure his mother will be back soon, so I’ll just let him rest here until she is.” Madge still had an odd look on her face, but she nodded and sat back down. Frankie leaned against Gale’s chest, stuck his thumb in his mouth, and promptly fell asleep.

“You’re…well, you’re awfully good at that,” Madge ventured with a slightly raised eyebrow. 

Gale shrugged. “I had a lot of practice with Posy, and Thom is almost like another brother to me so I’ve been around his boys a lot too. Babies and kids are pretty simple, when it all comes down to it.” Madge nodded, and picked up where she’d left off with Chicago weddings. It sounded to Gale like she knew people with a lot more money that he’d ever have, a thought he found more than a little discomforting. Finally, Delly appeared by Gale’s side, thanking him for watching after Frankie and picking him up.

With Frankie gone, Gale and Madge lapsed into silence, made all the more uncomfortable (for Gale) by the pointed looks Mellark kept throwing at him. Finally, he knew he couldn’t avoid it anymore and asked her to dance. Her smile in response made his stomach lurch, but he shoved that feeling down and took her small, soft hand in his. They joined the other dancers, and Gale was pleasantly surprised to find that Madge was good at it, following his steps with ease. They whirled around the room, her hand in his, his hand on her waist, and he knew, right then, if he could have her in his arms for the rest of his life he could die happy. And the second he had that thought, he remembered that it would never happen and he was being a damn fool to think it could. She was used to fancy weddings in hotels, not dances held in barns because there really wasn’t anywhere else big enough. But her cheeks were pink from the exertion and her smile went from ear to ear, so just for one night, he let himself pretend.

They danced together the rest of the night, and when everyone was leaving, Gale wondered if he should offer to drive her home. It would be a hassle, getting the horse and wagon out, but he would do it if it meant prolonging the evening with her just a little more. But then Delly offered her a ride and Madge accepted, so there went that plan. As they waited on Thom to bring the wagon around and Delly ran to the house to pick up the kids, the relaxed, comfortable rapport they’d had on the dance floor evaporated, and they stood awkwardly staring at each other until Mellark wandered over and threw his arm around Gale. “You know Gale,” he mused, “with Prim married to Rory it’s almost like we’re brothers. And I always wanted a brother who hated me.” At that, Gale threw his head back and laughed along with Mellark, shaking his hand and giving Katniss a quick hug goodbye. As they started their walk home, Mellark whispered something in Katniss’ ear that made her hiss “Peeta!” and look around, clearly worried someone had overheard. But then she leaned her head on his shoulder, and while Gale would probably never like Mellark very much, he was happy for Katniss.

Thom finally brought the wagon around, and Delly and Hazelle came out of the house, Hazelle carrying two of the boys and Delly balancing Frankie on her hip. She handed Frankie to Gale and climbed into the front seat, and then handed one of the boys from Hazelle to Thom and took the other one in her lap. Madge hopped nimbly into the wagon and then held her arms out for Frankie. With him settled into her lap—still sound asleep—they took off into the night, Madge waving happily back at him, the little dark haired boy curled onto her chest.

Oh, this was not good.


	3. Fall, Part II

It was an unseasonably warm Friday evening in late October, and Gale was running late.  The combine had broken down and he’d spent hours trying to fix it.  As a result, he was now covered in grease and dangerously close to being late for dinner.  Normally that wouldn’t be much of a crisis, but Posy had finally convinced their mother to invite Madge for dinner.  Posy had spent all afternoon helping Hazelle in the kitchen, practically beside herself with joy that Miss Undersee would be spending the evening with them.  If Gale was honest with himself, he was looking forward to it too, just not at this very moment when he could not look more like a farmer.

            “Ma!” he bellowed as he ran through the front door, “I’m headed upstairs to change!  Let me know when Posy’s teacher is here!”  With that he pulled his shirt over his head and began running up the stairs, only to barrel straight into a small blonde woman.  She sat down on the steps with a squawk of surprise and Gale froze mid-step.  Forgetting he was now shirtless, he offered her a hand up—which she took, but her ears were turning bright red and she was pointedly looking at the floor, the walls, anywhere but Gale.  Partially mortified and partially rather happy that she seemed to be sneaking glances at him out of the corner of her eye, Gale found himself again at a loss for words.  Madge was the one to finally break the silence, explaining to her feet that Hazelle had told her to put her hat and coat upstairs.  Gale nodded and made a motion to go up the stairs again, but when he moved to his right Madge moved to her left, and then they repeated the awkward dance in the other direction.  With a wild laugh that sounded more than a little nervous, Madge moved to one side and stood still, allowing Gale space to move past her.  As Gale splashed water on his face and changed his clothes, he pondered making a run for it.  But he knew Posy would be devastated, and besides, he wasn’t a kid any more.  He would just have to face this dinner, and those blasted blue eyes.

            By the time he got downstairs, Madge seemed to have mostly recovered.  She was in the sitting room with Posy, perched primly on a chair and complimenting Posy on her dress.  The dress, Gale knew, was a rare indulgence on Hazelle’s part, and was fancier than even Posy’s Sunday best.  He crossed his arms and leaned one shoulder on the doorjamb, smiling as Posy explained how she and her mother had made the dress, piece by piece.  When Posy saw him, she sprang out of her chair and then seemed to remember that she was trying to be a grown up, so she slowed her steps as she walked over to Gale.  He crouched down to give her a hug, noting that Madge turned to look at them over her shoulder but then quickly looked back straight ahead, her ears once again turning pink.  Hazelle bustled in to announce that dinner was ready, and Posy hurried to escort Madge to her seat.

            Dinner went well, all things considered.  Madge effusively praised the overly-sugared peas and lopsided cake, correctly surmising that those had been Posy’s contributions to the meal.  She chatted with Vick about his college plans (Gale was rather proud that Vick would be going to the university in Lincoln in the fall, even though his high school education was just through a correspondence course due to the closest high school being some 10 miles away) and offering to help him if he got stuck translating Virgil, something Madge pronounced to be “simply dreadful.”  She asked Prim about her work with herbs, laughed herself into tears at Rory’s story of being trapped by a pig in his own pen, and offered to loan Hazelle some sheet music next time she was over.  In short, she charmed them all, and Gale managed to get away with hardly speaking at all until Rory brought up Gale’s land.

            Gale could have killed his brother, right then and there.  Judging from the grin on his face, Rory knew exactly what he was doing.  Gale had bought the land adjoining their farm four years ago, when those neighbors had given up and headed back east.  There was a little sod house on the property, but Gale had planned to build a big wooden house like this one when the time came.  But then Katniss told him she was marrying Mellark, and while they farmed the land, the house had never been built.  Rory went on about how  _beautiful_  the land was, and how Madge  _simply_  had to see it, and on and on until Gale was ready to risk whatever punishment came his way for strangling his younger brother at the dinner table.  Posy, of course, jumped at the idea and begged to be able to take Miss Undersee out for a walk.  Madge assented, and then Posy insisted Gale accompany them, since it was his land.  Not seeing a way out of it, Gale agreed, helping Madge with her coat and trying unsuccessfully to ignore the leap of happiness in his heart when she smiled at him.

            The walk was pleasant, with the winds blowing softly and the sun sinking in the west.  Posy ran ahead of them, doubling back whenever she found a pretty flower for Miss Undersee, or saw a hawk they’d discussed in Nature class, or anything else that crossed her notice.   The land wasn’t far—just over the ridge behind the house—but in the fading light Madge stumbled a bit over the uneven ground.  The second time, he offered her his arm, reminding himself to breathe when she took it.

            They crested the ridge with the sun setting behind them, the land spread out before them in varying shades of gold.  Madge took a sharp intake of breath.  “Oh Gale. It’s beautiful,” she whispered softly.  Gale felt his heart swell with pride.  It  _was_  beautiful land.  Land he and his mother had worked very hard to buy.  Even if he never married and built a house, it was good land to have, and seeing Madge appreciate it made him even happier.  He pointed out the different fields, and the brook that cut across a corner of the property, but left out any mention of the house he’d hoped to build one day, the house that would face east.  Mellark could have those stupid sunsets he was always blathering about: Gale would take the sunrise.

            “Gale was going to build a house here for him and Katniss, but then she married Peeta instead,” Posy announced matter of factly.  Gale groaned inwardly, because Katniss and that terrible morning was not something he wanted to discuss with anyone, much less Madge.  But as Posy traipsed down the hill to pick some more flowers, Madge raised an eyebrow.

            “You were going to marry Katniss, but she left you for Peeta?  You’re on awfully good terms with them if that’s the case.  I doubt I’d be that friendly in your position.”

            So Gale took a deep breath and the whole story came pouring out.  How the Everdeens had been their neighbors when they first arrived in Nebraska, and how both he and Katniss lost their fathers to the same outbreak of fever.  How he’d ran into her hunting one day, and how they became friends and he’d just… _assumed_  that one day, they would get married.  How he hadn’t really considered his feelings for her, or her feelings for him, or happiness, or love, but rather just thought that they were both very practical people and getting married made sense to him and he thought she’d see it the same way.  How one morning he’d brought her here, intending to tell her that he’d purchased the land for them, and instead she’d bluntly told him Mellark had proposed and she had accepted.  How he’d stormed off without a word and spent weeks sulking, refusing to see her, until one morning Hazelle stormed into his room, threw his boots in his general direction, and ordered him to stop moping about and go hunting with his friend.  Madge listened to all of this solemnly, not saying a word.  Posy returned with her bouquet which Madge accepted graciously and they turned around and headed back to the house in the darkening twilight; Madge with her hand still tucked into the crook of Gale’s arm and Posy skipping happily alongside them.  It might have been Gale’s imagination, but it almost seemed like she was leaning into him.

            Vick already had the wagon hitched when they got home, but Gale volunteered to drive Madge home, not quite willing to let this evening end.  She gave Posy a hug goodbye and thanked her for being such a gracious hostess.  Posy looked so proud she might burst, and Gale could have kissed Madge for treating Posy like the grown up she had been attempting to be that whole evening.  (He didn’t though. He wasn’t _crazy._ )  Madge said her goodbyes to everyone else, and then Gale gave her a hand into the wagon, devoutly grateful that they were both wearing gloves.  Hazelle returned with a clean blanket—the one in the wagon had seen better days, not to mention less hay—that Madge gratefully settled across her lap.  As they drove down the lane and past the gate, Gale leaned over.  “I’ll bet anything that there’s an eight year old standing on the porch, hoping you’ll wave,” he muttered.  Madge turned and waved again, and they could just make out Posy jumping up and down waving, all pretensions at adulthood and dignity forgotten in her excitement.

            They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes before Madge turned to him.  “You know, I’ve taught a lot of students with much older brothers, but none with brothers as attentive as you are to Posy,” she ventured, and for the second time in one night, Gale found himself telling a story he rarely told anyone.  He told her about his father’s death that awful spring, and the fear he’d had that they would all starve.  He talked about Posy, born less than a month after Papa died, and how Ma had been so overworked Gale began holding Posy when she cried in the night so Ma could get some sleep.  He even told her about that following winter, when Vick developed a cough that lingered for months and Hazelle and Posy had gotten so sick he thought he might lose them both; how Hazelle was so out of her mind with fever she started thinking Gale was Papa, and how Gale had spent endless nights walking the tiny sod house, holding a squalling Posy, wondering what on earth he would do if he became a fourteen year old orphan.  He finished the story with a shrug, slightly mystified at how much Madge could pull out of him.  It wasn’t that he never talked, but in general he didn’t go around spilling his life story to practical strangers.  But here he was, telling her all of it.

            Madge sat quietly as he finished, shivering a bit in the brisk wind.  Gale hesitated for a moment before offering her the blanket sitting in the back of the wagon—it was dirty and covered in hay, and her coat was finely made.  But Madge waved off his worries and ordered him to give her the blanket..  To his surprise, she threw it around his shoulders as well, drawing it closed in front of them as she shifted closer to him.  “There, that’s better for both of us,” she declared with just a hint of a grin on her face.  They fell into silence again, while Gale concentrated overly hard on controlling the horse when Madge was pressed so closely to his side.    Then suddenly, Madge began talking.  She told him about her mother, who had been so sick for so long that Madge didn’t remember her being healthy.  She told him about her mother’s headaches, that got so bad Madge couldn’t play the piano anymore, and how after her mother died Madge couldn’t bring herself to play then either, so she’d sold the piano.  She talked about her father, who had gotten more and more distant after her mother died, and who she didn’t think she could leave on his own.  There was something in her voice that told Gale this wasn’t information she shared readily, and he felt honored she would tell him these things.

            All too soon, he could see the lights of town approaching and he wasn’t ready to say good bye yet.  He slowed down the horse a bit and turned slightly towards her.  “You…you said I was smart.”

            “Hmm?” Madge replied absently.

            “That day.  At the school house.  You said I was smart.  Why?”  He didn’t specify which day, but he was sure she would know what he meant.  And he was right.

            She shrugged.  “Well, first, practically the whole county talks about Gale Hawthorne, the boy wonder who saved his daddy’s farm when he was just a kid.”

            “That was mostly Ma, though,” he objected.  “I helped, but she should get the credit.”

            “I wasn’t finished, Mr. Hawthorne,” Madge said in her best schoolmarm voice, although the effect was somewhat lessened by the smile on her face.  “Posy also talks about how you help her with her homework, and how much you read in the winters, and really, anyone who talks to you can see how intelligent you are.”

            Now it was Gale’s turn to sit quietly, pondering what Madge had just said.  It was true that he’d helped Hazelle turn a struggling homestead into a thriving farm with enough land to support them comfortably within a few years, but he wouldn’t have been able to do that without her guidance.  And he did help Posy with her homework whenever Vick was too busy, but what kind of brother would he be if he didn’t?  And reading, well, what else was he supposed to do during those endless Nebraskan winters?  But the idea that Madge, of all people, thought he was smart?  That made him happier than he had a right to be.

            He slowed the horse to a stop in front of Madge and her father’s neatly trimmed two-story house.  He started to get out, but Madge stopped him.  “Don’t worry, Mr. Hawthorne.  I can get down from a wagon without assistance. You just stay warm.”  And with that she tucked the blankets back around him, kissed him quickly on the cheek and hopped nimbly down.  Gale stared after her in awe as she opened the front door, waved quickly, and then disappeared inside.

            The spot where she’d kissed him burned the whole drive home.


	4. Winter

            The next few weeks were a blur as Gale tried to decide what to do.  He cared about her, that he knew.  But he still wasn’t sure if she would stay—his initial thought that she wouldn’t last through the winter kept nagging at him.  There was also his worry that she wouldn’t want  _him_ , that she wouldn’t want to be a farmer’s wife when she could have someone…better.  Someone who could buy a piano for her, and take her to fancy parties, and build her a gleaming house with brand new furniture.  So he spent his days getting distracted from his work, clumsily dropping things and generally unable to focus on anything, and his nights trying not to remember that drive home.  He saw her when he’d pick Posy up on Wednesdays, but with Posy there they didn’t do much more than exchange pleasantries and shy smiles.

            And then three weeks after… _that_  evening, the snows started.  Endless rounds of storms and blowing snow that were enough to seal the Hawthorne homestead off from town for days at a time.  It was also enough to drive Gale absolutely out of his skin with distraction.  During one break in the storms he managed to make it into town and ginned up the courage to stop by her house, but no one answered the door.  Just as he was leaving town he thought he caught a glimpse of her heading into Mellark’s, but he needed to make it home before dark.  That evening, the snow started again.

            It was another two weeks before Gale made it to town, two weeks of pacing the house with little to think about except Madge.  He tried to read, but that only reminded him of her.  He tried to get menial chores done, but all that did was give him time alone with his thoughts, time to think about all the ways she might turn him down, or change her mind, or just… leave.  Nebraska was a difficult country, and while he wouldn’t blame her for leaving, his heart sank every time he contemplated that.  So when the snow stopped falling and the winds quieted down, Hazelle gently suggested that he hitch the sleigh to the horse and go to town before he started climbing the walls.

            Gale left his horse and sleigh in Thom’s stable, stopping in to see Thom and hold the newest baby (a boy, again.  Delly was thrilled, but Thom had been wanting a daughter).  He picked up some fabric for Hazelle, since both Posy and Vick were growing like weeds and would need new clothes come spring.  He knocked at Mellark’s, rolling his eyes when no one answered but he could see some light and movement upstairs—he had no desire to interrupt them, though.  His errands finished, he turned to head back to Thom and Delly’s; the light was fading and the wind was howling ominously.  The last thing he needed was to be caught out in a storm on the prairies.  But once again Madge crossed his mind, so he turned down the side street that lead the Undersee’s home.  The house looked cold and dark, and he prepared himself for disappointment but knocked anyway.

            Madge answered the door, her nose tipped with red and wrapped in several shawls.  In an instant, Gale’s heat dropped into his stomach—he knew that look.  It was the look of someone who wasn’t lighting the fire because they were worried they would run out of fuel.  All of a sudden he wasn’t twenty two, but fourteen and watching his family slowly fade away in front of his eyes.  He shouldered past her without waiting to be let in, roughly asking where the wood pile was and demanding she show him the stove.  The whole front of the house was freezing, barely warmer than outside, and none of the fireplaces were lit.  Madge was sputtering behind him but he barely heard her; he was too busy simultaneously imagining worst case scenarios and trying to come up with a plan.  Maybe Mrs. Everdeen would let them stay with her—she had a whole house to herself now that Prim left, and Madge and her father could stay there until Gale had enough time to scrounge up more fuel.  He reached the kitchen in the back of the house, threw the door open…

            …and it was like walking into a furnace.  The stove was blazing merrily with a large stack of wood next to it, blankets hung over the windows to keep out the drafts, and a bed was pushed into the corner.  Madge slammed the door behind her and rounded on him, eyes flashing dangerously.  “Gale Hawthorne.  What, pray tell, are you doing?  Why are you barging into  _my home_  like a wild animal?”

            Gale looked at her, all the worry of the past few minutes suddenly leaving him.  She was fine.  Madge was fine.  She wasn’t going to freeze to death, or get sick.  He sank into a nearby chair, scrubbing a hand across his face.  “I thought…I thought you were in trouble,” he explained weakly.

            “In trouble?  What kind of  _trouble_  could I get into in my own home?”

            “That…that winter.  The winter after Papa died.  We didn’t have enough wood to see us through the winter, so we left the fire as low as possible and bundled up.  And Ma and Posy nearly died because of it. I saw you in your shawls, and I… I lost it for a second.  I’m sorry,  I really am.  You just… you scared me.”

            Madge huffed, but pulled a chair over and sat down next to Gale, starting to unwind her shawls.  “As you can see, Mr. Hawthorne, I’m doing  _just fine_.  Daddy went to Omaha and I’m here by myself, so I figured it wasn’t worth heating the whole house.  I pulled my bed in here, and I’m, as Posy would say, ‘snug as a bug in a rug.’  I was just in another room sorting books, and didn’t want to light the fire just for an hour or so.  That’s why I’m dressed like this.”  She slowly reached out and put her hand on his where it rested on his knee.  “Thank you for worrying about me and I’m sorry to have scared you, but really, Gale, I’m not quite as naïve as you think.  Chicago isn’t exactly the tropics, you know.”

            His hand turned over automatically, holding hers tightly.  “I know,” Gale sighed.  “Its just…” he trailed off, momentarily distracted by the room visibly darkening.  “Wait—did it…oh,  _damn_ ,” he swore, jumping up and moving the blankets to look out the window.  It had already started snowing, which meant he’d have to spend the night on Thom and Delly’s floor.  Hazelle wouldn’t worry too much—he’d done it before, and she knew he would never risk getting lost in a snowstorm—but he still vividly remembered how often newborns cry in the middle of the night.  “I’m sorry, Madge, I didn’t mean to be so harsh.  But I should head back to Thom and Delly’s for the evening—I’ll get out of your hair now.”

            She hesitated for a moment.  “Wait, Gale.  Thom and Delly just had the baby, right?  So things are a little…unsettled, right?”  Gale nodded, unsure of what she was trying to say.  “So,” she continued, “You’re already here.  And it’s been pretty lonely the past week, what with Daddy gone, and all.  So why not stay for dinner and keep me company?  You’d be able to make it to Thom and Delly’s later this evening, and it would be nice to have someone to talk to aside from myself.”

            Gale stared at her for a second before his face split into a wide grin and he started pulling off his scarf and coat.  “I’d love to,” he replied, enjoying the way she seemed to blush just a little bit under his gaze.

            He helped her with dinner—his cooking wasn’t great, but when Hazelle was sick Vick and Rory had threatened mutiny if he made them one more bowl of porridge, so he’d figured out the basics—and marveled at how  _easy_  it all was with her.  They told stories and laughed, and teased each other, and before he knew it they were sitting on a pile of blankets on the floor, shoulder to shoulder, watching the flames dance inside the stove, giggling like children.  And so right there, sitting on her kitchen floor while she told a story about her first day teaching back in Chicago, Gale leaned over and pressed his lips to hers, just briefly, slightly worried that she would slap him, or laugh at him, or kick him out, but she just smiled and whispered “finally” and kissed him in return.  The kiss was soft and sweet and Gale could have lost himself in her.  He’d kissed other girls, but it was nothing,  _nothing_  like this—it was like his blood was on fire, and the only thing he could feel was her.  Her fingers, knitting themselves into his hair, her softness as his ran his hands down her sides, her taste, everything about her was consuming him.

            After some…minutes? Hours? he broke the kiss, still holding her face in his hands, and kissed her lightly on the nose.  She giggled, looking up at him with those deep blue eyes through light blonde lashes, her skin glowing in the firelight.  He pressed another kiss to her forehead and sighed, wrapping his arms around her as she leaned into him.  They sat like that for a bit, quietly content, until Madge broke the silence and asked if he was still interested in the book she’d mentioned during dinner.  He was, so she stood up to go get it—an action that was severely hampered by Gale pulling her back into his lap for several more long kisses—and when she returned, Gale settled down with his head in her lap as she began to read aloud.

            The book was good, as she promised, but he kept getting distracted by things like the glint of firelight in her golden hair, or the way that one wisp of hair kept drifting forward, no matter how many times she tucked it behind her ear.  He reached up and tugged on it gently, watching how it sprang back into its curl, smiling as she playfully swatted his hand away.  Grinning mischievously, he reached up and deftly pulled out one of her hairpins, laughing at her shriek of indignation.  She tossed the book to the side and protectively put her hands to the loose knot at the back of her head, but she was too late—Gale sat up, pulled another out and smiled in satisfaction as her hair came tumbling down.  She scowled (or  _tried_  to scowl) but Gale was already carding his fingers through her soft hair, gently untangling the waves.  She smiled up at him, and he’d just tipped her chin up so he could kiss her some more when they were both startled by the loud  _bongs_  of her grandfather clock.

             _Midnight._   It was already midnight.  Gale groaned, wondering if he should wait outside Thom and Delly’s house until he heard the baby cry, or try sneaking in and risk accidentally waking them up.  Madge blinked rapidly, looking from Gale to the clock and back again.  “You could…I mean, if you wanted, you could…” Madge stuttered, her voice catching.  She took a shaky breath. “You could just stay here, if you wanted.  No one knows you’re here, right?  So…” she trailed off, blushing furiously.

            Gale considered for a moment before dropping a kiss to the top of her head.  “If you’re sure, I’ll stay.  I’ll sleep on the floor and leave first thing in the morning—I can say I stayed with the Mellarks instead.  Katniss owes me one anyway.”  And with that, he threaded his fingers through her hair again and pulled her close for another kiss that made him forget how to breathe.

            An hour later, Madge was beginning to doze against his shoulder while he read aloud, so he shook her awake and suggested she go to bed.  Her hair was pulled back into one long braid—he’d insisted on braiding it himself, partly because he was the reason her hair was down, and partly because he wanted another excuse to run his fingers through her hair—but a few wisps were escaping and curling against her cheeks.  He kissed her softly, tucking that errant curl back behind her ear, and turned his back to her so she could change in privacy, focusing with all his might on the fire.  He heard her clothes rustling for a bit, and then the creak of the bed as she climbed in.  “It’s safe to look now,” she whispered, apparently under the impression that at bedtime people must whisper, and her smile when he turned to look at her was so bright it was almost like another source of light.  He stood and leaned over the bed to give her one more kiss goodnight before shaking out the blankets and settling himself in front of the fire.  It wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep, but he’d slept in worse places.

            After another half hour, he knew they were both still wide awake, unable to sleep with the other so close but yet out of reach.  He tossed and turned in a vain attempt to get comfortable until he saw Madge’s head peek up from the covers.  “Gale,” she whispered, “This is ridiculous.  You can’t sleep on the floor—it’s freezing, and hard, and uncomfortable.  Just come to bed.” 

Gale froze, trying to process what she’d just suggested.  Slowly he stood up and sat on the edge of the bed, stroking her cheek gently.  “Are…are you sure?  Madge, that’s… are you  _sure_?”  She nodded, and Gale’s heart leapt in his chest.  “All right then,” he whispered, untying his shoes and quickly shedding his outer layer of clothes.  Then, very gingerly, he pulled the blankets back and slid in beside her.  He lay there stiffly for a moment, unsure of how to proceed, until he felt Madge curl up beside him, burrow under his arm, and rest her head where his shoulder met his chest.  Gale tightened his arm around her and buried his face in her sweet-smelling hair.  Within minutes, they were asleep.

****

Gale woke to a pair of big blue eyes hovering just inches from his face.  “Morning, sunshine,” he yawned.

“You snore, you know.”  Madge wrinkled her nose.  “Really, really loudly.”

Gale chuckled.  “Rory says it sounds like a freight train full of loose marbles.”

“Well, he’s not wrong.”  Madge snuggled closer, once again resting her cheek on his chest and draping her arm across his stomach.  “But you’re nice and warm, so I’ll forgive you for the snoring.”  Gale wanted nothing more than to fall back asleep, but he knew he needed to get going.  He nuzzled her hair, wishing he didn’t have to leave the bed, dreading the cold drive home.  From the light filtering in he could tell it had stopped snowing, but he briefly wondered if he could claim the horse had thrown a shoe and buy himself another day with her.  She was just too perfect curled up beside him, and the sheets and blanket smelled like her, and he couldn’t bring himself to end it.

Madge stretched slowly, pushing herself up on her elbow and leaning over to brush her lips against his.  “Let’s eat something before you have to go, all right?”  Gale murmured his agreement, but tightened his hold on her, kissing her deeply for just a bit longer.

Eventually, she pushed on his chest, breaking the kiss and shaking her head.  “Gale Hawthorne, you are  _trouble_ ,” she scolded.  Gale grinned in response, kissing her one last time before letting go.  She grabbed one blanket from where he’d left them in front of the fire, wrapping it around herself and tossing the other to him.  He sat up and threw the blanket around his shoulders, shuffling to the fire to stoke it a bit while Madge opened and closed some cupboards.

He sat heavily in a chair as Madge reached the table, wrapping his hand around her wrist and pulling her down into his lap for another kiss.  She wound her arms around his neck and let her blanket drop, so Gale rearranged his, cocooning them both in its warmth, holding it with one hand while the other settled on the curve of her hip.  He nipped softly at her lower slip, smothering a grin as she moaned quietly in response.  She pulled back just slightly then, resting her forehead against his and breathing a little harder than usual.  When she’d recovered, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him firmly on the forehead.  “Let’s eat and get you back to Thom’s before we cause a full-blown scandal, shall we?”

Gale nodded, reluctantly releasing his hold on her and wishing again that he didn’t have to leave.  She sat down next to him and rewrapped her blanket, pushing a plate with some leftover cornbread in his direction.

 Suddenly, a thought hit him. “Wait, when is your father getting back from Omaha?”  The thought of Mr. Undersee, as mild as he seemed, catching Gale having clearly spent the night with his only daughter was slightly terrifying.

Madge shrugged, munching on her cornbread.  “He said he was staying until he found us a house with a piano, but even if he found one already, the trains wouldn’t have been running in this storm.  He probably won’t be back until tonight at the earliest.”

Gale froze, his stomach turning to lead before he’d even realized what she’d said.  “A…house?  In Omaha?  So you’re  _leaving_?”  He looked down at the plate in front of him: white, with dainty pink flowers along the edge.  Porcelain.  The plate she’d given him without a second thought was  _porcelain._   His family didn’t even  _own_  porcelain; they ate off plain stoneware dishes, and here she was, pulling porcelain out like it wasn’t something special, like she used it every day.  Which, he realized with a jolt, she probably  _did._

Madge seemed to realize she’d said something wrong and put her hand on top of his.  “Gale, no, don’t…please.  It’s not…” but he couldn’t hear her over the roaring in his ears, and now he was staring at her hands.  Her soft, delicate hands that didn’t have a single callus, so different from the rough, cracked hands of a farmer’s wife.  He was a fool, a goddamn fool, to think she would want to stay with him.  He’d been right all those months ago—she wouldn’t even last a whole winter, so how could he expect her to stay?  To marry someone who would always be a harvest or two away from complete ruin?  He’d been insane to think otherwise; no matter what she felt about him, he’d never be enough.

He shook her hand off of his and abruptly stood up, still deaf to her denials.  It didn’t matter, not if she didn’t want to stay, and he wouldn’t be the fool who tried to convince her.  “Gale, please,  _say_  something,” she pleaded.

“I’ll go now,” he heard himself say, his heart still thundering in his ears.  “I’ll let you wait for  _Daddy_  to get back with his new house and  _piano._ ”  He wasn’t being fair, and he knew it.  But he couldn’t stop himself, his brain repeating  _she’s leaving_  and  _she doesn’t want to stay here_ and _she doesn’t want you, she wants more than just a farmer who left school at fourteen_  over and over on a loop.  He dropped the blanket on the chair and blindly started pulling his trousers over his long underwear.

“Gale Hawthorne, you are an absolutely horrible snob, you know that?” she blurted, sounding angry and a little bit sad all at once.

That cut through the fog that had entered his brain.  “Me?” he rounded on her. “Me, a snob?  You’re the one that eats off porcelain for  _breakfast_ and the one who needs a  _piano_  in her new fancy house in  _Omaha._ ”  At five hours away by train, Omaha wasn’t as far as Chicago, but it might have been a whole different country as far as he was concerned.   _Leaving._   Madge was  _leaving_  and his heart was breaking and she thought  _he_ was the snob.

“Yes.  A snob.  A holier-than-thou, if-you-didn’t-grow-up-dirt-poor-then-you-can’t-have-any-problems,  _snob_ ,” she snapped.

“That’s…that’s not true,” Gale sputtered, searching for his boots.  It was damnably hard to argue with dignity while also getting dressed for a Nebraskan winter.

Madge snatched his boots from off the floor under the bed—oh god, the  _bed_ —marched across the kitchen and threw them into the hallway.  “Fine, Gale.  If you won’t even  _listen_  to me, then just  _go._ ”  He glared at her, her face flushed and her eyes gleaming with the beginning of tears.  She broke first, turning her back on him.  “Please, just leave,” she begged, her voice wavering. 

Gale strode into the hallway, shoving his feet into his boots as fast as he could and slamming the Undersee’s door just a bit harder than he probably should have considering he still didn’t want the neighbors to see him leave, and walked as quickly as possible back to Thom’s.  He knew he should go in, maybe give Thom and Delly some sort of excuse for not returning last night and leaving his horse in their stable, but he couldn’t.  He hitched the horse and sleigh back up and drove home, the sleigh skimming lightly over the new fallen snow and the prairies glittering in the sunrise but he didn’t see any of it.  She was  _leaving._

He avoided her after that, once again refusing to come in when he picked up Posy and ducking around corners whenever he caught a glimpse of blonde hair above a navy coat in town.  And two months later, when Posy came home devastated that her beloved Miss Undersee was leaving, he let Posy climb into his lap and cry like her heart was breaking.

After all, his certainly was.


	5. Spring

 Gale drove through the muddy ruts, the wagon wheels splashing what little snow remained with dirty brown water.  It was still cool, but he could feel the sun’s warmth for the first time in months.  He waved to Rory as he drove past his brother’s fields, pondering the dinner they’d had with Rory and Prim last week. Rory was going to be a father.  Prim had announced it as they sat around the table, glowing with excitement while Rory looked at her adoringly.  He was happy for his brother, but he felt that same stab of longing and envy he’d felt at Rory’s wedding; a feeling like his little brother’s life was changing while his own remained stagnant.  He’d spent the last few months pondering what his life would look like now—he had always assumed he would have a wife and children, but with Madge leaving that dream was done.  But Rory and Prim were nearby, and while Vick probably wouldn’t return after university, Posy would eventually grow up and have children, so he told himself he could live a very happy life, taking care of Ma and spoiling his nieces and nephews.  He didn’t really believe himself, but he saw no other alternative.

            Gale had been irritable all winter.  He snapped at Vick for reading when he should have been working, and he had less patience with Posy’s rambling than he normally did.  Every so often it seemed like Hazelle was going to ask him something, but she never did.  At dinner with Katniss and Peeta one night Mellark mentioned seeing Madge in his store and Katniss started to say something, but the scowl on Gale’s face stopped her in her tracks. His foul mood followed him like a rain cloud, but he just couldn’t seem to shake it.

            He arrived at the train station, expecting Hazelle to be waiting for him, but the train was running behind schedule.  This wasn’t uncommon during the first few weeks of spring thaw, so he wrapped the reins around the hitching post and headed to the platform to wait.  No doubt Hazelle would arrive with endless stories about the ladies’ political meeting she’d been attending in Omaha, and he wouldn’t have to talk much on the way home.  Always rather laconic, Gale was talking less and less these days.

            The brisk wind has blocked by the station, making the platform slightly warmer than the road had been.  Gale stepped out onto the platform, only to freeze when he saw a woman in a smart dark grey traveling suit, primly seated on a bench at the end of the platform with a valise resting beside her.  Her blonde hair was neatly pinned back under a small hat, so different from the sleep-mussed disarray it had been the last time he’d been this close to her.  He couldn’t believe it.  Today, of all days.  She was leaving on the one day he went to the train station. He thought about turning around, about heading back to the wagon or pacing the streets of town until he heard the train, but before he could do anything, she spoke.

            “Waiting on someone, Mr. Hawthorne?”  She kept her eyes trained straight in front of her, her voice icy.

            That tone angered him.   _She_  was the one that wanted to leave, not him.  “Ma has been in Omaha for a few days, I’m here to get her.”  He paused, considering.  “Weren’t you even going to say good bye?”

            Madge turned her head a fraction, raising one eyebrow.  “Say good bye to  _whom_ , Mr. Hawthorne? A man who turns the other way when he sees me on the street?  A man who won’t even  _listen_  to my explanations?  I’m not sure who you thought I should say good bye to, but it certainly couldn’t have been  _you._ ”

            A sharp retort was on the tip of his tongue, but he stopped, chastened.  She was leaving and he would never see her again, so the least he could do is try and make it not so  _horrible_.  He walked over to the bench and sat down next to her, setting his hat on the ground and running his hands through his hair.  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands in front of him.  “Please don’t hate me,” he began, his voice a lot smaller than he’d intended.

            “Don’t  _hate_  you?” She hissed, lowering her voice as Haymitch, the drunken porter, wandered out to the platform and cast a bleary eye in their direction.  “Why shouldn’t I hate you?  You  _spent the night_  and then stormed out as soon as I mentioned Omaha and refused to let me explain.  No, Mr. Hawthorne, I don’t owe you anything and if I feel like hating you, I will,” she finished haughtily.

            Gale’s heart sank even lower, if that was possible.  This was going to be harder than he’d thought.  He tried again.  “Madge, please.  It’s just…you wanted to leave and I couldn’t ask you to stay.  I know what it’s like to hate it here, to resent someone for making you stay, and I couldn’t do that to you.”

            “Who said anything about me wanting to leave?” Madge asked, her tone thawing infinitesimally.  “It was Daddy who wanted to move to Omaha.  I wanted to stay here, which you would have known if you’d just  _listened_.”

            She wanted to stay?  The thought threw Gale momentarily off track, but he barreled on.  “It was more than just that.  It was…it was your hands.”

            “My hands?  What, pray tell, do my  _hands_  have to do with this?”

            Gale reached over and took one of her small hands in his.  She was wearing dark grey gloves with black trim that matched her traveling suit.  His brain was screaming at him to stop, but he didn’t.  He gently loosened her glove at the tip of each finger and then slowly pulled it off, leaving her bare hand to rest in his rough, wind-chapped one.  Madge sat very still, hardly breathing.  His skin still burned wherever he touched her, but he couldn’t stop himself.  “These hands.  They aren’t the hands of a farmer’s wife, Madge.”

            She tried to snatch her hand away, but he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and held on.  “What, so because I’m the daughter of a banker I don’t know how to work hard?  Or I won’t?  Or I’m too  _soft_  to be able to work?  Is that what you’re saying?”

            Gale shook his head.  “No, Madge, that’s not what I’m saying.  I’m saying… I’m saying that you shouldn’t  _have_  to work that hard.  That these hands should be in a city, where they can play the piano and will never crack because you’ve been working outside all day.” As he spoke, he trailed a finger down her palm and watched her fingers twitch ever so slightly.  “I couldn’t ask you to be the wife of someone who could go broke with two bad harvests, someone who won’t be able to afford the things you deserve.  I’m not saying you  _wouldn’t_  work hard, I’m saying that I don’t want to be the reason you have to.  I want you to have the life that you want, and I can’t give you that.”

            “Gale Hawthorne.  Did it ever occur to you to ask  _me_  what I want?  That maybe, I should be given the  _choice_  of being a farmer’s wife?  Maybe you should have done that, rather than making decisions for me.”   She pulled her hand out of his and turned away, her voice wavering.  “I would have stayed, Gale.  If you’d just  _asked_ , I would have stayed.”

            He felt his jaw drop slightly, his mind reeling.  He knew he looked foolish right now, but he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  “Really?” he whispered, not fully comprehending what she was saying.  “Madge, I… really?”  She nodded, still looking away from him and sniffling a little.  Madge wanted to  _stay_.  With  _him._   He curled a finger under her chin, gently turning her face toward him.  There was a tear running down her cheek that he brushed it away with his thumb.  He tried to think of something to say, but nothing came to mind.  So instead, against his better judgment, even though his brain was still screeching that he should  _stop_ , that this was a  _bad idea_ , that he should just  _let her leave,_ he leaned forward and kissed her.

            As it turned out, kissing Madge was every bit as wonderful as he remembered.  She sighed against his mouth and he had just begun wondering if he could get away with removing her hat and pulling her hair down again when she pulled away.  Her eyes were bright and shiny with tears.  “Ask me, Gale,” she breathed.  “Ask me.”

            It took him a moment to find his voice, but when he did she responded by kissing him so thoroughly he didn’t care if anyone saw.  And suddenly, he was laughing and standing up and picking her up by the waist and spinning her around and around on the platform.  She was laughing too, and clinging to him, and then they were kissing again and all too soon he could hear the train whistle as it approached.

            Abruptly, he took a step back.  “Wait, your train!  What should we… how can we…”

            Mage laughed again, sounding giddy.  “Gale, relax.  I have to go to Omaha—Daddy will worry if I’m not on the train—but we’ll write, and I’ll be back as soon as I get Daddy settled, all right?”

            Gale released a deep breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.  This was real.  She was coming back, for  _him_.  So he kissed her once more and they were still kissing when he heard his mother clear her throat behind him.  Madge took a hasty step back, but when he turned Hazelle’s eyes were smiling even as she tried to school her features into a frown.  Gale reached back and grabbed Madge’s hand, pulling her beside him.  “Ma, I know you know Miss Undersee, but… well, she’s agreed to marry me.”

            Hazelle smiled.  “Well, it’s about damn time.”

            If Hazelle swearing had thrown Madge, she didn’t show it.  “Thank you, Mrs. Hawthorne.  I love your family, and…”

            “Just call me Hazelle.  And honey, I’m happy for you both, I really am, but if you don’t get on that train it’s going to leave without you,” she interrupted, and he realized with a jolt that Haymitch was glaring  at them, the whistle in his mouth.  Gale hurried to grab Madge’s things and help her onto the train, kissed her one last time and then watched as the train left the station with Madge still leaning off the side, waving happily.

****

            In the end, Madge was only gone three weeks.  Her father wanted to stay in Omaha, but understood why she wanted to return.  But his sister had been widowed the year before and wanted a change of scenery, so she agreed to move from Milwaukee to Omaha and keep house for him.  Mrs. Everdeen graciously agreed to let Madge live with her until the wedding, quietly noting that she would be happy for the company.  Katniss beamed when he told her, and Mellark even tried to give him a hug.  Rory rolled his eyes and said “I knew it,” but Prim elbowed him in the stomach and told Gale she was sincerely happy for him (and Vick immediately asked if she would be bringing all of her books with her).  Posy, of course, was beside herself with joy that Miss Undersee was going to be her new big sister, while Hazelle scolded him for waiting so long before pulling him into a hug.

            Gale immediately roped Rory and Vick into helping him build the house, since he’d decided he couldn’t marry Madge until he had a real home for her and he was tired of waiting.  It went exactly where he’d always wanted it: facing east, with the ridge behind it sheltering them from the worst of the prairie winds.  It was two stories, and while it wasn’t as fancy as he was sure she was used to, he knew she would love it.  After all, she told him so, repeatedly. 

Madge came over often, helping with the house whenever she could and spending time doing needlework with Hazelle and Posy, both of whom declared Madge needed a full hope chest before their wedding that summer.  What doilies had to do with getting married Gale didn’t know, but Hazelle was firm that no daughter-in-law of hers would go without. Madge would stay for dinner on those days, and Gale lived for the drive home.  If Hazelle noticed that it was taking him longer and longer to get to town and back, she never mentioned it.  Sometimes Gale would visit her at Mrs. Everdeen’s, but that lacked the aforementioned appeal of a long drive and had the added problem of Mellark’s insufferable cheerfulness.

But Gale was happy, and so was Madge, and by the beginning of July the house was ready.  That night, Gale wrapped his arm around Madge as they escaped the stuffy barn and walked across the fields to their new home, stirring up fireflies as they went.  Catcalls of the rest of the wedding guests echoed out over the prairies, but Gale didn’t hear them.  All he could hear was Madge humming softly under her breath as she leaned into him.

When they reached the house, Gale stopped and asked Madge to close her eyes.  “I’ve already seen the house, you goose,” she scolded, but did as he requested.  Of course, when he picked her up in his arms her eyes popped open as she squealed with delight but soon she’d closed them again.  He shouldered the door open and carried her in, trying (and failing) to keep her feet from hitting the doorjamb.  When they reached the parlor he set her down gently on the bench and urged her to open her eyes.

The look on her face when she saw the piano was more than he could have hoped for.  “Oh, Gale,” she breathed, twisting to look up at him. “It’s perfect.  Where did you find it?”  Gale smiled proudly—it had taken quite a bit of effort, and several favors, but he’d tracked down someone willing to sell him the piano in the next town over.  It wasn’t brand new and he suspected it wasn’t as nice as the one she had owned in Chicago, but it was still a piano.  Madge stood and grabbed his shirtfront to pull him down for a kiss and he knew, without a doubt, if he could kiss her every day for the rest of his life he could die a happy, happy man.


	6. Epilogue (Summer, Five Years Later)

 The horse and wagon rounded the ridge as the house came into view.  It was a beastly August day, with the sun beating down relentlessly and the air humid and still.  Clouds gathered on the horizon and threatened rain, but Gale had no reason to believe that today would be any different than the days before.  The fields (and Gale) were desperate for rain, but desperation didn’t change the weather any more than wishing did.  As Gale drew closer to the house he heard peals of laughter but couldn’t find the source, until suddenly two barefoot little girls with black hair and skin as brown as his Indian grandma darted out from the long grass next to the lane. 

“Papa!” May squealed.  “Papa!  You’re home!”  The two girls began racing the wagon while Gale deliberately slowed the horse.  In the yard the girls celebrated their victory, May cheering and whooping loudly while Rose quietly smiled.  Both girls looked like Gale’s side of the family, with their dark hair, olive skin, and bright grey eyes, but May had her mother’s personality and curly hair.  Rose was more reserved, although her penchant for mischief was unrivaled and both Gale and Madge already pitied whatever teacher had to deal with the Hawthorne girls.  Fortunately for that unnamed teacher, May wouldn’t be starting school for another year and Rose was a year and a half younger than May.  Gale climbed down from the wagon as May attached herself to one leg and Rose grabbed the other.  He did an exaggerated walk for a few steps, acting like the girls were too heavy to move before crouching down and kissing them both on the head.

            “Where’s your Mama?” he asked, ruffling Rose’s braids like he used to with Posy’s.

            “She’s inside with the baby.  She said we could do  _whatever we wanted_  as long as we weren’t inside and could still see the house,” Rose answered with a smile that made Gale a little uneasy, but both girls seemed uninjured and a quick glance around showed no major damage to the house, barn, or yard.  Whatever these two had been up to hadn’t been  _too_  dangerous, then.

            “All right then, girls.  You stay in the yard while I go see Mama and Hazel, okay?”  May and Rose nodded before quickly dashing around behind the house.  Inside, Gale found Madge propped against the headboard in their dim bedroom, Hazel cradled in one arm.  When she saw him walk through the door she held a finger to her lips.

            “I just got her asleep.  She fussed the whole time you were gone,” Madge whispered in a barely audible voice.

            Gale dropped a packet on the dresser.  “Prim swears these will help with that.  There are clouds on the horizon again and Rory is sure it will rain today, but I doubt it,” he replied in the same quiet way.  He unbuttoned his shirt and lay down beside Madge, completely worn out from the heat of the day and Hazel screaming all last night.  Like Posy, Hazel screamed unless she was being held and walked by Gale, so he’d been up most of the previous night, pacing with Hazel nestled against his chest.

            Madge settled Hazel in her crib before leaning over for a long, slow kiss.  Gale could have easily spent a bit more time doing that, but shrieks of laughter drifted in through the open window.  Madge sighed.  “I think I should go make sure those demon daughters of yours don’t burn anything down.”

            “I seem to recall you having something to do with those demon daughters too, you know,” he responded sleepily.

            If Madge had a retort, he didn’t hear it as he drifted to sleep.

****

            Some time later, Gale awoke to a very dark bedroom.  Too dark.  But then he heard it—rain, pounding down on the roof.  Rain, and something else.  He checked on Hazel, but she was still sleeping quietly, her thatch of dark hair sticking up in all directions.  He followed the noise outside, where he found Madge, Rose, and May outside in the pouring rain, shouting joyfully and splashing in puddles.  He watched them for a minute, drinking it in, before running out to join his girls.


	7. outtake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set a few months after chapter five.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Gale announced and Rory sighed gratefully.  The harvest was over, but Gale had been pushing to get the fences fixed before the ground froze through, which meant long days walking the property lines.  The wind was picking up and the temperature was dropping quickly as the sun sank closer and closer to the horizon.  Rory set off across the barren fields for his small home with Prim and Gale began the long walk back to Madge.  They had been too far out today to return for lunch, and breakfast had been much too long ago for his liking.

 Four months in and Gale still hadn’t quite gotten accustomed to his luck.  He got to wake up next to Madge every morning, see her eyes blink into focus, feel her curled against his side, having sought out his warmth in the middle of the night.  He learned that she was just the tiniest bit grumpy in the mornings, a fact he found adorable, although she generally just wrinkled her nose at him when he said so.  He could see their small wooden house in the distance as he absently picked the last few flowers along the roadside, their bright yellow faces at odds with the dull shades of brown that colored the autumn prairie.

Madge had been exhausted lately, nearly impossible to wake up and with dark purple shadows under her eyes almost every day.  Gale was worried about her, even though she kept waving his concerns off, refusing to go see Prim or Mrs. Everdeen.  “I’m just a little under the weather,” she insisted whenever he brought it up.  Not coincidentally, Gale had also learned that Madge could be just as stubborn as him.  Still, he worried about her, always wondering if his luck was too good to hold.

Gale ducked into the kitchen where Madge was hovering over the stove, humming happily.  She had seemed better the past few days, he admitted to himself—she had more energy and seemed to be eating more as well.  Maybe she had been right, maybe it was nothing to worry about.  She glanced over her shoulder and her face lit up in a smile that still made his heart stutter. 

Madge crossed the kitchen in just a few strides and threw her arms around his waist, nestling her head into the hollow between his shoulder and neck in a way that had become almost like second nature for them.  “I brought you flowers,” he murmured against her hair.

Madge tipped her head back to look him in the eye.  “I’ve got something for you, too.”  Gale furrowed his brow, wondering when she’d gone into town.  She stepped out of his arms and bit her lower lip, fighting a smile.  “Prim was here today and, it’s, um…well, it won’t be here for awhile.”  Madge took his hand and placed it on her stomach. 

Gale stared at her in disbelief before a huge smile threatened to split his face in two.  He swept her into his arms once again, pressing kisses to her cheeks, forehead, nose, anywhere he could reach, once again not believing his luck.


End file.
